


a thrill of hope the weary world rejoices

by buckybuck (thestarsthesea)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Light Pining, M/M, the first Christmas fic of the year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21643198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsthesea/pseuds/buckybuck
Summary: And so it went, slowly over the course of a few weeks, the tower was overrun and bursting at the seams with festive decorations of all kinds. The first time Tony really had to stop in his tracks at the sight of it all, Friday bemusedly informed him that Steve and Natasha had entered some sort of competition of one-upmanship on who can fill the common floor with the most decorations. Apparently with an unspoken agreement that they should be as gaudy as possible as well.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 108





	a thrill of hope the weary world rejoices

*~**~*

Tony usually doesn’t pay much attention to what goes on around his tower, as long as it’s not destroying anything Pepper will be mad at him for (and sometimes even if it is), and as long as it isn’t in his workshop, he doesn’t really care.

So when he entered the common floor the day after a very lively and raucous Thanksgiving to find a very large and bare Christmas tree, he didn’t think much of it. In all fairness, he was much more concerned with getting his hands on a cup of coffee more than he was worried about anything else happening around him, so Loki himself could have been perched atop naked as the day he was born and Tony still wouldn’t have batted an eyelash.

Then, the next morning at around 4a.m., when he finally re-emerged from the workshop for more coffee and the first edible thing he could get his hands on and found twinkling lights and an artificial pine smell, he just shrugged and stuffed a leftover turkey leg in his mouth.

And so it went, slowly over the course of a few weeks, the tower was overrun and bursting at the seams with festive decorations of all kinds. The first time Tony really had to stop in his tracks at the sight of it all, Friday bemusedly informed him that Steve and Natasha had entered some sort of competition of one-upmanship on who can fill the common floor with the most decorations. Apparently with an unspoken agreement that they should be as gaudy as possible as well.

Which brings him to now, as Tony stares into the dead eyes of a group of light-up neon carolers that have taken up residence outside of the elevator, their cheerful, tinny voices belting out some bastardized version of _O Holy Night_ anytime someone passes. They stare back, unblinking, creepy in a way that has Tony fearing a bit for his soul at this moment.

“They’re kind of horrible aren’t they?”

Tony jumps, unthinkingly sending a loose fist in the direction of the sudden voice, not really realising “hey maybe I shouldn’t just hit first in a house full of jumpy superhumans” until his wrist is already clasped firmly in a warm, calloused hand.

The hold doesn’t turn into anything more, though, no hand behind the back restraint like he was half expecting, instead the fingers loosen, turn into a gentle cradle, the thumb brushing once along the underside of Tony’s wrist before letting go. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you, doll.”

Tony steps to the side so he can turn and give Bucky a proper stink eye, but the movement catches the terrifyingly sensitive motion sensor on the carolers, setting off a bout of singing that sounds like it’s coming straight from the depths of hell itself. He closes his eyes, grimacing as the song picks up volume, droning on and on for a solid two minutes.

The silence after is something Tony never thought he’d be thankful for, seeing as he’s made of noise and bluster, but there’s just something about the quiet after something so god awful that not even Tony can be mad about it.

“Where,” he asks, voice strained while he tries not to even twitch lest it sets them off again. “The hell did that abomination come from?”

Bucky looks at the carolers with equal parts weariness and disdain. “Steve found it in a dumpster.” He sounds so depressed about it Tony has to bite his cheek to keep from smiling. “Think the folks that threw it out had the right idea.”

Tony laughs at that. “You think I could get away with an _accidental_ repulsor blast that just so happens to hit this particular corner of the room? Extremis glitch, maybe?”

Bucky smiles that genuine little half-smile that shows off a dimple and always makes Tony’s chest feel a little funny, even more so when he gets to be the cause of it. “Pretty sure Stevie’d never let you get away with that. But you’d probably have Natasha there to back you up, so,” he makes a teetering motion with his hand. “You’d probably come out okay.”

Tony makes a wounded noise, stopping himself at the last second from bringing a hand to rest dramatically over his heart. Drama is not worth the punishment of that infernal singing, but it is safe for an exaggerated frown. “You’d let Natasha and I defend me all on our own? I thought we were bonding over our mutual hatred here, James, I thought we had something.”

The dimple grows deeper, accompanied by a soft chuckle. One that always seems to ring a happy little bell in Tony’s head, makes him want to say stupid things until he hears it again. Bucky doesn’t laugh much, he smiles only a bit more than that, and the guy’s been through enough shit to last a few lifetimes, some of that shit Tony’s a constant reminder for, so he can use all the happiness he can get, even if Tony has to make a fool of himself to make it happen.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m stayin’ out of it.” After a moment, though, he gives a conceding nod, smirking slightly. “Can’t say Winter wouldn’t help you out, though.”

Tony makes a triumphant noise, bouncing slightly on his feet. “I’ll take it, even if it’s because he doesn’t like Steve more than he actually likes me.”

A strange look passes over Bucky’s face, there and gone before Tony can even try parsing what it was meant to be, and Bucky and Winter might be more separate than together these days. but that doesn’t mean Bucky didn’t pick anything up in all those years as a passenger to a (mostly) emotionless killing machine, so Tony’s left with the carelessly neutral expression Winter sports when he’s not glaring, instead.

He also gives absolutely nothing away when he says, voice casual, “He likes you a lot more than he hates Steve.”

Which.

Well.

That’s information Tony is in no way prepared to hear or to deal with considering Winter has never bothered to hide his distaste for all things Steve Rogers and Captain America related. When asked why Bucky always shrugs, says he doesn’t know, and Winter just straight-up refuses to answer, though Tony is still debating whether it’s because Winter really isn’t sure, or if he’s just being a brat about it. The, uh, affection he apparently has for Tony has never awarded him any answers, either way.

In an absolutely mortifying turn of events, Tony can feel his face flushing gently the longer he lingers on the new revelation that Winter actually _likes_ him instead of merely tolerating his existence like he does everyone else. Tony didn’t even realise he _wanted_ to be liked. See, it’s easy to want Bucky to like you, he’s so likable himself, with his wide-eyed earnest curiosity that makes Tony want to show him _everything_ good about the future, and watch him nice and up close as he discovers it all. But Winter? He’s something else entirely. He’s a smartass, still scary ninety percent of the time, but he’s mostly managing to remain a mystery. It’s hard to tell what’s bullshit and what’s actually just Winter, but regardless, Tony really has somehow begun like him. He likes Winter’s weird and wildly inappropriate humour and the intriguing way he operates. Tony’s just never really thought of Winter actually _liking_ anyone, begrudgingly accepting, sure, but liking? Not really. And it, well, it sure is something to find out the list of things Winter is developing a fondness for apparently includes Tony somehow.__

_ __ _

In an attempt to save face and completely change the subject to get his mind off it, he clears his throat, lifting his chin like he’s not still blushing, and asks, “And how is our winter-themed friend liking this little competition Steve and Nat have forced us all to suffer through? Does he just feel _right_ at home?”

_ __ _

Bucky snorts, gives Tony an almost perfect imitation of Winter’s default unimpressed glower, so perfect Tony almost wonders if he let Winter slip through a bit just to get it right. “He thinks it’s ridiculous and doesn’t understand the point even though I tried to explain what traditions are to him. I just don’t think he’s found one he likes yet.”

_ __ _

“Boss, Miss Potts is on the phone and rather aggressively demanding your attention.”

_ __ _

Tony closes his mouth from where he was gearing up for what was probably going to be an unhelpful retort and sighs, shooting Bucky a weary look. “Hate to cut this short, Buckaroo, but duty calls.” He turns, eyeing the carolers he takes a chance with a very slow, very large step to the elevator, and, to the relief of his ears, it actually works. He gets by without one digital peep. He smirks at Bucky’s quietly impressed face. “And you should let Winter know that not all Christmas traditions are as useless as all these hideous decorations.” He winks and blows an exaggerated kiss as the elevator doors close.

_ __ _

Reveling in the soft surprised amusement on Bucky’s face, he completely misses the contemplation that follows after, and Friday, who’s always paying attention, is left to be the only one to see it, but she decides it’s not important enough to say anything. She has a feeling that whatever will come of it will no doubt be more fun if she keeps it to herself.

_ __ _

_ _

_ __ _

*~**~*

_ __ _

__  
_  
_

Christmas Eve is very quiet, even for the likes of superheroes.

_ __ _

For once Tony is actually in bed at a reasonable time, reasonable for him at least, and despite coming off a workshop binge and nice warm team meal...

_ __ _

He can’t sleep. 

_ __ _

He feels restless laying in the dark-- his sheets are too warm, the room is too quiet, the snow falling gently outside the window makes him feel closed-in and cold-- so he’s left alternating between staring at the back of his eyelids and the shadows playing across the ceiling.

_ __ _

After an hour and a half of tossing and turning his way from one side of his mattress to the other, he finally caves and gets up, listening to the small aching part of him that holds a ghost of his mother where she’s whispering _c’mon, I know what we need, bambino_.

_ __ _

He slips into a pair of warm flannel pajama pants, that might’ve actually been Thor’s if the Mjolnir pattern and too-long length of them are anything to go by, and a zip-up SHIELD hoodie he knows for a fact he stole from Natasha a few months back. Once he’s properly decked in the comfortable softness of well-worn and well-loved fabric, he can finally get to the good part. Or well, it was always his favourite part as a kid, anyway. It’s been a while since he’s let himself do this, he’s not sure those pleasant, warm feelings still hold up.

_ __ _

He checks the pantry in the penthouse, finds nothing but random cooking supplies he never uses and a mysterious box of macaroni and cheese. The contents of the fridge are just as abysmal; week old milk he doesn’t remember ordering and a pot of spicy mustard. Why he thought he’d have anything that he needs, Tony will never know.

_ __ _

He’s tired and feeling a fragile sort of wound-up that has him not wanting to talk to anyone if he can help it, so going down to the communal kitchen is something that seems almost not worth it, but, well, now that the idea’s in his head, he really wants his cioccolata calda.

_ __ _

He keeps the lights low in the kitchen and doesn’t make any noise at all, even though the chances of anyone hearing him and waking up is pretty slim. Even the most super-soldiery of their team couldn’t be able to hear Tony banging his way through the pots and pans through all the concrete and soundproofing, but still. The atmosphere is so soft and delicate, peaceful in a way none of them get to feel often. He can’t help but want to preserve it, revel in it, even if he’s doing it alone.

_ __ _

He’s happy to find a full carton of half and half in the fridge, and delighted to see they even have cinnamon sticks, and downright elated to dig out a full bar of 60% dark chocolate. It’s good stuff too, not exactly what his mother used to use, but beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to spontaneous re-livings of childhood traditions, can they?

_ __ _

He whisks a slurry as the other half of his liquids and the sugar and cinnamon heat on the stove. He doesn’t bother with measuring, his mother never did, and he doesn’t think he could ever actually tell someone the exact amount of milk and chocolate to make it taste right, anyway. It’s just something he uses his gut for, like Maria always told him it was supposed to be.

_ __ _

_”You’ll feel it in your heart, bambino, where you should feel all good things. It’ll tell you when it’s right.”_

_ __ _

Tony remembers looking up at her, her hair messy from sleep, delicate shadows smudged under her eyes, her nightgown soft with wear and glowing in the low light of the kitchen, watching her grate chocolate and hum the same song she told him her grandmother used to sing as she cooked, and feeling safe and happy and like nothing bad in the world could ever touch him.

_ __ _

It’s kind of a good thing those feelings were few and far between for him, considering the bad still got in anyway, there wasn’t much warmth for it to take away in the end.

_ __ _

The kitchen smells like cinnamon, homey and comfortable, and once he adds the chocolate to the thick cream in the pot, it only gets better.

_ __ _

Cioccolata calda doesn’t take long to come together. After a minute of stirring in the shaved chocolate and watching it melt, it gets dark and thick, smelling rich and warm with cinnamon.

_ __ _

He gets his favourite mug (a huge monstrosity in the shape of the Hulk’s giant head, a much loved birthday gift from Nat), pours the whole pot in and covers the surface with an enthusiastic swirl of whipped cream. Is it smart of him to be consuming this much chocolate born caffeine and this much processed sugar in the middle of the night? Absolutely not. But is knowing that going to stop him? Not in the slightest. What’s another sleepless night for Tony, anyway? It’ll be just a regular Monday at this point.

_ __ _

He entertains the idea of just going back to the penthouse, but he can’t bring himself to leave the lived-in comfort of the common floor. It makes him feel a little less lonely, maybe, being among the chaos that takes over a space when at any given time there will most likely be at least three people running through it at once.

_ __ _

So, instead of going back to the too-quiet, too-clean coldness of his own floor he goes to the living room instead. He makes himself at home among the carelessly folded throws, tosses a purple hoodie that can only logically belong to Clint from a couch cushion to a nearby chair, and basks in the twinkling of the Christmas tree lights as he wiggles himself comfortable on the couch.

_ __ _

He takes a sip of his cioccolata calda, it’s chocolatey and thick, tastes absolutely perfect, and it reminds him so much of his mother that it’s hard to breathe for a minute.

_ __ _

Tony clutches his mug tightly, his eyes closing without his input. But the painful part passes quickly, leaving behind the bittersweet softness that always comes with old hurts.

_ __ _

He snuggles further into the blanket he haphazardly wrapped around his shoulders as he sat down, while Friday turns the tv on, flipping through half a dozen channels playing holiday movies until she finally stops on a channel he’s never even heard of that’s streaming _ Barbie In the Nutcracker_.

_ __ _

Tony pauses halfway through his next sip, an eyebrow finding its way up his forehead. “Really, Fri?”

_ __ _

She pointedly turns the volume up a few notches. “Thought you could use some cheering up, Boss.”

_ __ _

After a moment of thought he concedes her point with a nod and a shrug. “I do love Barbie.”

_ __ _

He slouches into the cushions, grabbing a throw pillow to stuff under his head, but as he’s getting comfortable, he notices a shadow of something stuck to the ceiling that causes him to pause. “What the--” he murmurs, squinting up at whatever it is. The outline becomes a little clearer, whatever’s there is small and spikey, and something on it is reflecting a little of the tree’s lights, and it’s- oh. “Where did that mistletoe come from?”

_ __ _

He’s not expecting any sort of answer, not even from Friday, who could very much tell him at least _who_ put it up, and probably even why it’s in such an odd spot, so when a voice comes from the far corner of the room Tony almost spills his cioccolata calda all over himself from the violence of his surprised jump.

_ __ _

“Winter put it up.” Tony jerks his head towards the sound of Bucky’s voice as he emerges from the dark corner of the room that’s conveniently blocked from the light of the Christmas tree.

_ __ _

Tony always forgets there’s even a chair back there, though it doesn’t surprise him that Bucky apparently likes to sit in it and keep an eye on everything. Or maybe it’s Winter, maybe it’s both, who cares.

_ __ _

Bucky’s wrapped in enough blankets that Tony almost doesn’t notice when he shrugs, looking quietly amused and not at all apologetic for scaring Tony to near death. “I told him it was a bad spot but he insisted.” He looks up at the smudge that is the mistletoe, then gives Tony a sly look from the corner of his eye. “Took me a few days to figure out why he chose there, but I eventually did.”

_ __ _

Tony raises an eyebrow at him, looks from Bucky’s expectant face to the mistletoe and down. It really is in a weird place. The whole point of mistletoe is to put it in a public space, doorways and arches, where everyone goes and everyone will be caught. That’s all the fun. But this mistletoe, the mistletoe _Winter_ allegedly put up (and Tony _really_ wants to hear the story on how exactly Bucky explained it to him and how he reacted to it), it’s not in a doorway, not even in a busy spot. It’s above a chair.__

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

And, yeah, sure, people sit in chairs all the time, but it’s not really, you know, an optimal place. Mistletoe only really works when two people go under it at once, and two people don’t usually sit in one chair. The couch would have been a better place to put it. Maybe Winter still doesn’t get the concept? Did Bucky explain that a chair isn’t a great place to get kisses, or give kisses?

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Wait. Does _Winter_ want kisses? What a vaguely terrifying thought. Tony just learned a few weeks ago that he was capable of feelings other than murder, begrudging acceptance of the people around him, and the occasional amusement at their expense. 

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

The thought that he may want to catch someone under a mistletoe is, quite frankly, a little scary and quite a bit awkward.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

The questionable choice of sticking it over Tony’s chair notwithstanding-

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Wait.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

That’s Tony’s chair. Everyone knows it’s his, that he always sits there, that if there’s even a chance he’ll be on the common floor that it’s _not to be sat in_ because it’s his.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

It’s _his_.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Oh.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

_Oh._

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Tony only realises his thoughts must be showing on his face when Bucky speaks.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

“Thought it would have taken you less time than that, doll, you bein’ a genius and all, but at least you got there.” Bucky sounds amused, and not at all as worried about the other personality living in his body possibly wanting to kiss Tony as he should be.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

“Hey, nothing in my brain goes in a straight line, Barnes, you’re lucky I didn’t get distracted halfway through and just leave you standing there while I use my genius to build something cooler than you could ever imagine.” Not even shock can keep Tony’s mouth from running. It’s a gift as much as a curse.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Bucky chuckles, stepping closer and plopping down into Tony’s chair. “I’ll give you that one, sweetheart.”

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

It falls quiet as Bucky gets comfortable, wrapping himself more firmly in his blankets while he leans back and closes his eyes. Tony studies the long stretch of his throat as he tips his head back, the sharp cut of his jawline, and decides getting caught under mistletoe with a guy wearing Bucky Barnes’ face wouldn’t be a bad thing.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Tony clears his throat, shaking his head to clear it. He looks to the tv, watches Barbie save the world from the Rat King, then back to Bucky, and asks, feeling uncharacteristically awkward, “And how exactly do _you_ feel about the whole,” he gestures vaguely to encompass the ceiling and chair. “Thing?”

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

With the way Bucky’s eyes are glimmering from the warm yellow lights of the Christmas tree, how his lids are heavy from the angle of looking at Tony while his head rests against the back of the chair, he’s painting a pretty devastating picture. And with current circumstances, Tony doesn’t know what to do about the shivery feeling growing in his gut the longer he holds Bucky’s gaze.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

After a moment of them staring at each other, Bucky closes his eyes again, lazily shrugging a shoulder. “I told him there were better ways to get your attention, but it’s not like I disagree with him, so who am I to argue with how he goes about it?”

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Not like he disagrees-

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

_Not like he disagrees?_

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

To say that’s a surprise twist would be putting it lightly. Bucky’s kind of hard to read, harder than Winter, more often than not. He’s lovely and flirty, but he’s like that with almost everyone (Steve, Sam, and Vision being the biggest exceptions). If he were to give it any thought, Tony would have said Bucky and Nat were on the fast track to rekindling whatever old flame they had going on way before any of the rest of them were in the picture. But apparently he’d be very wrong.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

He won’t lie to himself, or anyone else, and pretend that Bucky Barnes doesn’t make an incredibly pretty picture, or that having his full attention isn’t an addictive rush to the head.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

The thing is, though, is that he’s never let himself think about it. Bucky’s always seemed off-limits and Winter’s a wildcard, you never know what he’ll tolerate or what he’ll knock you out for. But now that Winter’s very much expressing some sort of interest, well, Tony’s got an almost overwhelming stream of thoughts and feelings on the matter all clamoring for his attention.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Through the growing cacophony of thoughts in his head he can hear himself ask faintly, “You don’t disagree?”

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Bucky doesn’t look at him, doesn’t even move at all, aside from a smile tilting his mouth upwards, it’s gentle and confident, like this isn’t a big deal, like it’s not shocking at all. “Not even a little bit.”

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Oh.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

With that little revelation, all the yelling in his head abruptly stops, scattering away, because now it all seems too simple for so many questions and doubts.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

There’s really only one way for this to go from here, as far as he’s concerned, so Tony sets his mug of cioccolata calda on the table beside him and sits up. “Well,” he begins, voice barely above a murmur, “you know, you’re under the mistletoe, so,” Bucky’s looking at him again, watching closely, his head tilted back up, allowing Tony to have his full attention and the rush that comes with it. “As the only person around, I’m supposed to kiss you.” 

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Bucky’s gaze turns soft, pleased, and his voice is quiet and warm when he says, “Can’t break the rules, sweetheart.”

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

With that Tony gets up, his stomach swooping in a way it hasn’t since he was a teenager, and steps over to Bucky and the mistletoe, and leans down. Their lips meet in a perfectly and properly chaste kiss, but it lingers, delicate and wistful, long after it could have ended.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

After a handful of moments that seem to move syrup slow, Tony pulls back, his eyes blinking open, expecting to find the warmth of Bucky’s, but getting the brightness of Winter’s instead. Tony blinks. “Um.”

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

He doesn’t try to pull back but Winter darts a hand to Tony’s waist to hold him right where he is anyway. “We think it’s only fair that I get a kiss too, as the mistletoe was my idea.”

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Tony swallows, and well, he can’t argue with that logic. It is fair, after all. He has a second to think, as he shrugs and leans back in to meet a kiss a lot less modest than the first one, that these two are going to somehow be the death of him, he knows it.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

But, as Winter pulls him in by his hoodie, as he bites at Tony’s lips when he loses his balance and falls into his lap, well, at least he knows he’ll go out happy.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

_ _ _ ___

_ _ __ _ _

*~**~*

_ _ __ _ _

___  
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_  
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**Author's Note:**

> Sure it's only December 2nd, but it's never too late for holiday themed fics, right? Right??  
Technically I wrote this.... I dunno, last year? Earlier this year but also too late to be posted for the 2018 festive season? I have no idea, all I know is I found it today and it was never posted, so I decided it was time. Even though I probably could have waited a week or two... but nah, self-control isn't that strong lol
> 
> Business:  
Title Credit: O Holy Night by.... whoever you want who's performed it before, I guess  
Disclaimer: I own nothing that may be familiar to your eyeballs or memory
> 
> Beta? Not this time. It's the poor impulse control and my terror of inconveniencing people that really gets me there, so please excuse any mistakes!
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys! I'm gonna try coming out with another festive fic at some point this month! If I can find something that inspires me...  
Thanks for reading!  
<333


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